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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29344905">Stage Whisper</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterkill/pseuds/winterkill'>winterkill</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(because Jaime is an oral enthusiast), Established Relationship, F/M, Face-Sitting, Jaime's had a rough few weeks trying to woo the wench, Kinda, Loud Sex, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Smut, also contains, and an awkward morning after, and now they're finally alone!!!, so they can have some, will someone please cover poor Sweetrobin's ears?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:09:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,906</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29344905</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterkill/pseuds/winterkill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Stopping for the night at some nameless inn off the Kingsroad, after weeks of pining, Jaime thinks Brienne and he are having a clandestine encounter. </p><p>Meanwhile, everyone in earshot regrets endorsing Sansa's plan to force them to share a room.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>99</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>266</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Exchange that was Promised: Jaime x Brienne Smut Swap 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Stage Whisper</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinalgirl75/gifts">cardinalgirl75</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you to wildlingoftarth and bussdowntarthiana for organizing this smutty swap. This is a gift for the wonderful cardinalgirl75! I couldn't have imagined a more perfect prompt:</p><p>"They've rescued Sansa from Littlefinger and are on the road to Winterfell.  They're trying to have sex without anyone (Pod, Sansa, Hyle Hunt, whoever else might be with them) hearing. They fail miserably (though they don't find this out until the next morning)."</p><p>I hope you enjoy it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s been nearly three moons since Brienne came to him at Pennytree, and nearly one since they left the Vale with Sansa Stark in tow. Jaime can mark the time by the way the auburn roots of the girl’s hair grow in. As they shamble their way up the Kingsroad to Winterfell, it feels as though they move slower than an army of a thousand men. </p><p>Jaime finds their strange company both amusing and irritating in equal measure. Mostly, he thinks it’s odd that he finds himself among them. </p><p>The absurdity of the company is either the set up for a long-winded jape told by a drunkard in an ale house, a mummer’s farce, or the beginnings of a song worthy of the Age of Heroes. Jaime is more certain about the first two, but latter has a touch of wryness to it that he finds amusing. </p><p>Before they left the Vale, Jaime overheard that he’d been declared dead or missing and stripped of his title of Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. It was a short, useless tenure--most of it spent in chains at Riverrun--but it’s a blessing because Jaime is onto better things. He’s going to live his best life seeking his last chance at honor by aiding Brienne in taking Sansa Stark home. Both Ned Stark <em> and </em> his father would oppose it violently, and that confluence makes Jaime hope they’re pissed about it <em> wherever </em> the Stranger saw fit to take them.</p><p>Unfortunately, Jaime’s best life is missing one new but very central component--he can’t get Brienne to come back to his bed.</p><p>On the Quiet Isle, Brienne scolded him for violating the Elder Brother’s hospitality by sneaking into her cabin. </p><p><em> “Fuck </em>the Elder Brother,” Jaime had whispered, “What does he know about anything?”</p><p>“There are<em> rules,” </em> Brienne replied in that scolding way of hers; it was somewhat dampened by her being tucked into bed. “We ought to abide by them. <em> Why </em>are you even here, ser?”</p><p>Jaime nearly told her that rules were for lesser men, but the wench wouldn’t have laughed. Instead, he spoke like the words had been forcibly wrenched from his heart. “You hanged for me, Brienne, <em> why?” </em></p><p>Brienne had gone blotchy in embarrassment, noticeable even in the moonlight, and Jaime coaxed the truth out of her. It was a good truth, one that led him to kiss her. Kissing led to climbing into bed with her. Climbing into bed with her led to fucking her. </p><p>Jaime was shocked at how natural the act felt between them; Brienne wasn’t Cersei, and there had only ever been Cersei. Jaime thought being with someone else would shake him, but it only felt inevitable between them. The wench was just as she would be--stubborn and pliant and shy and forward. Her injuries limited their ardor, but even with that consideration, the night lingers in his mind.</p><p>When Jaime untangled himself from Brienne before dawn, he didn’t consider how long it would be before he’d get to be with her again.</p><hr/><p>Wooing Brienne is harder than Jaime expects.</p><p>Mayhaps it’s that he can’t steal a moment alone with her. The last time they lucked to spend the night at an inn, Brienne rounded up Podrick, Sansa, and Sweetrobin and bolted the door behind her without a word. Jaime spent the night sharing a bed with Gendry because it was the least offensive choice.</p><p>Maybe it’s that Jaime doesn’t know shit all about what a woman who isn’t Cersei wants. Brienne wants valour and honor and knighthood, and Jaime already gave her Oathkeeper and a quest. <em> Maybe she’s angry that I left her alone? </em>Jaime regrets that, regrets that Brienne was hurt; it won’t happen again on his watch.</p><p>Perhaps she thinks him callous and rude. Jaime tries to be gentler, like he was on their night together. He can’t carry two bowls of stew with one hand, so he gets Brienne’s first and takes it to her.</p><p>“Here, wench.”</p><p>Brienne looks at the watery mess of turnips and stringy game and says, “I can get my own.”</p><p>“I don’t doubt that, but I’m doing it for you.”</p><p>Brienne takes the bowl, but she passes it to Podrick and gets her own.</p><p>Jaime tries other things--laying out her bedroll for her (with his own nearby, of course), offering to take her shifts on watch, bringing her an apple from an orchard they pass. He tries talking to her and <em> not </em> talking to her. <em> Maybe she’ll miss me? </em>It’s coy and immature, but Jaime is getting a bit desperate. </p><p>On one particularly monotonous afternoon, he tries singing.</p><p>Clegane, ray of pleasantness that he isn’t, turns around and growls, “Lannister, will you <em> shut the fuck up </em> before I rip your fucking tongue out?”</p><p>“Well,” Jaime stops mid-verse of “The Bear and the Maiden Fair,” and says, “I’ve never much cared for you, either.”</p><p>“At least I’m not acting like a cunt over some beast of a woman.”</p><p>Sansa lowers the hood of her cloak and glares, “This grows quite tiresome.”</p><p>Days later, in the dead of night when the watch shift changes, Hunt kicks Jaime awake. He has the decency to wait until Jaime is standing before he says, “What in the <em> hell </em> are you playing at with Lady Brienne?”</p><p>“I’m trying to be courteous; it’s part of my plan.”</p><p>Hunt barks a laugh, but no one stirs, “Your <em> plan, </em>Lannister?” If you want to fuck the Maid of Tarth, you’re not getting anywhere.”</p><p><em> I already have, and she’s the Maid of Tarth no longer. </em> That won’t help Hunt’s opinion of Jaime’s technique. Not that Jaime needs the approval of some fucking hedge knight. “Fine, <em> Ser </em> Hyle, how would <em> you </em>earn her affections? If that’s even my goal.”</p><p>Hunt shrugs, “I already proposed to her and told her I wouldn’t stop her from fighting.”</p><p>Jaime laughs this time, and it’s loud enough that Podrick and Sweetrobin sit up, disoriented. “You think <em> you </em> could stop Brienne? No wonder she refused you.”</p><p>Hunt smirks a smirk that makes Jaime want to knock out a few teeth with his golden hand. </p><hr/><p>Podrick and Sansa are whispering, but the wind carries their voices so Jaime only hears snippets.</p><p>“I-It’s getting hard to watch, isn’t it, L-Lady Sansa?” Podrick stutters.</p><p>“Lady Brienne…” A gust of wind rushes through the leaves and drowns out her words “...at him <em> all day.” </em></p><p>Podrick nods and speaks, but Jaime can’t hear, “...<em> have </em> to do something, don’t we?”</p><p>Sansa places her hand on Podrick’s arm, “We do owe them both a great debt.”</p><p>The two of them are of an age, so it makes sense that a friendship has grown between them. It’s heartening to watch Sansa’s demeanor brighten as they trek further North, and Pod hasn’t many friends. Their afternoon on the road is predictable in its monotony, so Jaime forgets the conversation in his usual irritation of Clegane and Hunt.</p><p>They stop that night in a nameless village; the only notable building is an inn, which Sweetrobin announces by shouting, “Beds!”</p><p>Silently, Jaime agrees--the ground was less kind to his back than a decade ago, and despite his good efforts, he had no wench to keep him warm.</p><p>Brienne always handles paying for their rooms because, hilariously, she’s the least conspicuous adult among them. She asks for three rooms, supper, and baths and pays with the Lannister gold Jaime gave her. They eat their supper, and Jaime has resigned himself to being Gendry’s bedfellow for the umpteenth night, when Sansa announces she will room with Sweetrobin and Pod.</p><p>“I’m not sure that’s appropriate--” Brienne interrupts.</p><p>“What’s the lad going to do,” Clegane grumbles, “He can barely string a sentence together, let alone get under her skirts.”</p><p>Podrick turns such a violent shade of red that he’s nearly purple. Hunt laughs. Gendry looks sullen, but that’s just Gendry. Sansa takes Sweetrobin and Podrick’s arms.</p><p>“We’ll be fine,” she sounds very like Catelyn in her tone, “Besides, won’t be it nice to have an evening without us children underfoot?”</p><p>As if by magic, Hunt, Gendry, and Clegane vanish into the third room. Jaime <em> really </em> doesn’t like the gleam in Sansa’s eye.</p><hr/><p>It’s not what Jaime wants, but he makes himself scarce while Brienne bathes, and she turns her back while he does. Her freckled legs are bare and hanging off the edge of the bed. <em> Look at me, </em> he wants to yell. Jaime thinks the wench looks like a boulder hunched over like that, but he bites his tongue. Best not to antagonize her.</p><p>Wrapped in a thin towel, Jaime sits on the opposite side of the bed. “This is the first time we’ve been alone since the Quiet Isle.”</p><p>“I’m aware.”</p><p>“I’m starting to think you’re avoiding me.”</p><p>“We’ve been travelling,” a flush creeps up the freckled back of her neck. “I--It hasn’t been on purpose.”</p><p>“I can’t even pass you a plate of food without you recoiling. Do you regret fucking me that much?” Jaime is past caring about the bitterness in his voice.</p><p>“N-No, I...”</p><p>The <em> no </em> is enough. Jaime crawls across the bed and wraps his arms around Brienne, bringing her between his spread legs. He knows she can be tender--he’s felt it and witnessed it, but he doesn’t know how to thaw her. Kissing her neck doesn’t work, and neither does burying his nose in her damp hair. </p><p>“Would you just <em> talk </em> to me? I’m <em> shit </em> at guessing.” </p><p>“I...I want Lady Sansa to trust me, and if she knows we’re--”</p><p>“You’ve a Lannister sword and coin. You stubbornly, <em> stupidly </em> risked your life for mine.” The noose mark hasn’t faded; Jaime’s lips are close enough to kiss the scarred skin, but he refrains. “Sansa Stark trusts you. Do you think fucking me will change that?” </p><p>“N-No.”</p><p>“You’re ashamed of me.” Brienne was called his whore. A absurd notion--he could fuck her a thousand times, and it would never be true. </p><p>He feels her inhale sharply, “No, I’m frightened.”</p><p>“Of my cock, wench?”</p><p>“Of trusting,” her voice is soft and sad, “Of being hurt.”</p><p>Brienne’s gentleness is something Jaime knows in his bones, but his own capacity for returning it is untrained. “I’ll be as good as I can, and surely you’ll be better.”</p><p>“Is that enough?”</p><p>“I suppose we’ll have to see.” </p><p>Jaime gives in and kisses her--freckles and noose scar and blush-reddened skin alike. Brienne melts into his arms until she turns, and Jaime can <em> finally </em> kiss her lips. Jaime tried to hold onto how sweet it was to kiss Brienne, but the faded memory is a pale comparison. Her tongue darts out to brush against his lips and then retreats, and Jaime loves the dance of it. Her hands are rough, but her touch is feather-light until they settle on his back. Brienne pulls him firmly to her, and Jaime’s blood roars in his ears.</p><p>It’s <em> delightful </em> that he’s already naked. </p><p>Brienne startles when she finds his cock between their embrace. The towel’s position was precarious before, but now it’s approaching indecency. Jaime nearly throws it aside and reveals himself, but the sunset of color on Brienne’s cheeks stops him.</p><p>The anticipation of Brienne’s touch is like a coil wound tight within him. There’d been no chance to goad her in the cabin on the Quiet Isle, but Jaime knows Brienne <em> can </em> be spurred to action with taunts. “Are you <em> sure </em> you’re not afraid of my cock?”</p><p>“I’m <em> not </em> afraid of your cock!” she shouts.</p><p>Jaime laughs in victory, but it quickly dies when Brienne reaches under the towel and proves her courage. When she circles her hand around him, Jaime moans so dramatically that a whore would blush at the sound. The next noise that bursts from him is more restrained, but it takes very little to rile him up. Brienne rubs her calloused thumb over the head of his cock; Jaime rests his forehead against her breast and tries to steady his breathing. </p><p>“Point made,” he gasps.</p><p>“Jaime,” Brienne whispers and doesn’t stop touching him, “were you frightened that night?”</p><p>“The most craven I’ve ever felt,” he admits.</p><p>“And now?”</p><p>“Still terrified.” Jaime had grown used to keeping his heart in a tightly-closed box, but Brienne ripped the lid off, and now his feelings pour, unfettered, over everything. </p><p>Brienne tilts his head up, palm against his cheek; she graces him with a small smile--the same approving one she gives Podrick when he does something that makes her proud. That smile and the deep blue of her eyes fill Jaime’s vision entirely. Her other hand is still stroking him, slow and steady waves of pleasure washing over him. </p><p>Jaime has no outlet for the feeling, so he kisses Brienne again. This time, their tongues meet immediately. Brienne abandons his cock and pushes him so they tumble back onto the bed. The force makes the bedstead bump loudly against the wall. On the Quiet Isle, Jaime did his best not to put his weight on Brienne, fearful of her injuries. He’s unprepared for how good it feels to have her thighs around his hips pressing him into the bed. </p><p>The towel is lost, so when Brienne looks down, she sees everything--from his cock resting against his stomach to his certainly hungry expression<em> . </em> She’s known every last, broken bit of him for so long, and yet there’s <em> still </em> that affection in her eyes.</p><p>
  <em> “Wench.” </em>
</p><p>“You’re going to call me that <em> now?” </em></p><p>“Did I not last time?”</p><p>The flush on Brienne’s cheeks creeps down her neck, “I...don’t recall.”</p><p>Jaime slides hand and stump under her loose sleeping shirt. Brienne has the grace to help him take it off and throw it aside. Jaime hasn't seen her naked since Harrenhal; their night together was covered in darkness. She looked so frail at Pennytree, like a ghost of herself, but no longer. Her body bears the signs of her bravery, and Jaime only burns hotter for her at the sight. </p><p>“I recall something you <em> did </em> say. Something I didn’t respond to.”</p><p>“Words aren’t the only way to--”</p><p>“I know,” Jaime rubs his thumb over Brienne’s hipbone, “but everyone wants to hear that they’re beloved. And you are, by many. I just want to be the victor.”</p><p>Brienne sucks in a breath, “Jaime, who else would there be?”</p><p>“Podrick.”</p><p>“He’s a <em> boy.” </em></p><p>“Hunt.”</p><p>Brienne protests, “I don’t need a husband who wants Tarth.”</p><p>“Fine, Gendry, then,” Jaime pouts, “He <em> does </em> bear an uncanny resemblance to Renly.”</p><p>“That doesn’t mean I love him.” Brienne braces a hand on the bed next to Jaime’s head and leans in close. “Not Clegane, either.”</p><p>Jaime chuckles, “He’s too surly. You want a man with a sense of humor.”</p><p>Brienne touches his hair; it curls around her fingers. “It can’t be you, then,” she teases.</p><p>“It has to be me,” Jaime pulls her down for a kiss, “because I love you.” </p><p>They’d been so quiet and careful last time, but Brienne seems to have abandoned that when she rolls her hips against his. It sends Jaime’s thoughts scattering like raindrops as she rubs the fabric of her smallclothes against his cock. She moans into the kiss, and it rings loud in Jaime’s ears.</p><p>“I want to taste you,” he whispers, “if you’ll let me.”</p><p>Jaime expects Brienne to protest, but she crawls her way up his body. Brienne’s lack of hesitation feels earned, but Jaime couldn’t name what he’d done for that to be so. Her damp smallclothes are less than an inch from his face. He presses his nose against the fabric, breathing in the scent of her. Jaime thinks of Harrenhal, or the pale nest of curls at the juncture of her thighs. <em> I should’ve slipped these damned things off her first. </em></p><p>He licks regardless, pushing the fabric against Brienne’s cunt with his tongue and using the roughness to his advantage. Brienne lets out the same strangled nose as he did when she touched him, and Jaime chuckles against her. </p><p>“An eager wench.”</p><p>The wood of the headboard creaks when Brienne grabs it, “Occupy your tongue with something else, ser.”</p><p>Diving back into her is a pleasure, one Jaime relishes by using his lone hand to push her smallclothes aside. Brienne seems to like the direct contact of his tongue even more because she starts pressing downward onto his face. Jaime laps at her and tries to keep from being suffocated by gripping her hip. When he draws back to catch his breath, the exhale tickles, and Brienne yelps. </p><p>Her peak is slow in coming, but Jaime is patient. Brienne isn’t demanding, so he keeps whispering into her skin and hoping she’ll reward him with directions. Shyly, she suggests adding his fingers, and the duo of that and his tongue are what send her over. As soon as Brienne stops shaking, Jaime kisses the soft skin at the inside of her thigh.</p><p>“Your cunt tastes good.” Brienne moves enough so Jaime sees the skeptical way her brows are drawn together. Jaime licks his lips as if to prove his point. “Kiss me and find out, but take those off first.”</p><p>Usually stubborn Brienne doesn’t argue, and Jaime finds he’s fond of that, too. Jaime drags her smallclothes over one hip, revealing the last bit of freckled skin. Brienne reaches for the other side and doesn’t say anything when working in tandem makes the task harder. She tosses the fabric aside, and Jaime pulls her down. When she moves her hips in just the right way, Jaime’s cock brushes against the slick heat of her cunt. He whimpers, and it’s quite undignified. Brienne notices and bears down on him again.</p><p>They’re <em> so </em> close to fucking, and Jaime needs her to be buried in her cunt, to feel her heat as she clenches around him.</p><p><em> “Brienne,” </em> Jaime’s lips are against hers, and he sounds like he hasn’t used his voice in half his life, “I want you to fuck me until we break this godsdamned bed.”</p><p>Her eyes are wide and blue, and she looks so much like the maiden she was not so long ago. She isn’t moving anymore--there’s only heat and the vice-like grip of her thighs around his. </p><p>“H-How?” </p><p>It’s the most glorious question Jaime has ever heard.</p><p><em> “Just </em> like this.” Jaime cups her unmarred cheek with his hand, and Brienne leans into it. “Ride my cock until I can’t do anything but beg you for mercy.”</p><p>“I--I don’t know if I can--”</p><p>“You’ll be so good. <em> Please, </em> Brienne. I need you,” he takes a deep breath, “If you’re willing.”</p><p>Brienne reaches between them and grabs his cock, and even that contact has him desperate. When she slides down onto him, another moan is ripped from Jaime’s lungs. Her cunt is hot and tight, and Jaime grabs her arms for purchase. Brienne hasn’t even moved, and she’s already wrecking him.</p><p>“I’m willing,” she whispers.</p><p>“I can see that, wench.”</p><p>The first rock of her hips is as mind blowing as Jaime expects. The rhythm is a bit stilted at first, but he doesn’t care because Brienne increases the pace until the headboard thumps into the wall as Jaime’s cock hits the deepest part of her. Brienne’s control comes from her hips, and Jaime doesn’t care how tightly her thighs are around his. Her sighs and moans and labored breathing are music to his ears.</p><p>It’s not a delicate fucking--Brienne’s chest heaves, and soon there’s a fine sheen of sweat on her skin. Jaime can’t resist sitting up enough to press his lips to her skin, lapping up the salty sweat between her breasts. He moves to her nipple after that, sucking and biting until Brienne shudders and clenches around him. She’s quieter than him, but so responsive that Jaime isn’t worried. </p><p>When he’s afraid he’s going to climax much sooner than he would like, Jaime sinks his fingers into the fleshy part of her ass to stop the rocking of her hips. Brienne must like the stopping point because her eyes flutter closed, and she smiles. Watching her, perched above him like a pale statue, makes Jaime’s heart race.</p><p>“Your cunt feels too good. You’re going to wring me dry.”</p><p>Brienne covers her face with her large hands, and that just doesn’t work at all. Jaime takes one hand, then the other, and pulls them away and doesn’t let go. Her embarrassment almost feels like heat coming off her skin in waves. </p><p>“I can stop,” she says dryly.</p><p>“No, sweetling, come here.” Jaime pulls her close and kisses her scarred cheek. “Let’s switch.” He manages to reverse their positions with <em> some </em> grace. Brienne seems more at ease when she’s looking up at him. Her hair flies everywhere, so Jaime tries to smooth it down against the pillow. “Is this better?”</p><p>“Only more what I was told to expect.”</p><p><em> “Gods, </em>I hope it’s better than those awful stories septa tell.”</p><p>“...Perhaps a little,” Brienne smiles.</p><p>Jaime can't think of a quip or jape, so he retreats and starts fucking Brienne again. The way she stops herself from gasping by biting her lip is a better reaction than any words would've engendered. The second time, Brienne drags her hand from where it’s resting against the pillow and covers her mouth to stifle the sound. </p><p>After a lifetime of fucking being a secret, Jaime says, "We're indoors, wench, you needn't bother with that."</p><p>Brienne frowns but pulls her hand away. "It's a bit...embarrassing."</p><p>"No one can hear except me, and I very much want to."</p><p>"I liked hearing you," she whispers.</p><p>"Then we agree to scream our heads off while we can."</p><p>Even with the pause and the slower place, Jaime knows he isn’t going to last long. Brienne answers each thrust with an earnest, unguarded cry of pleasure. She wraps her legs around his back, bringing their bodies closer until Jaime sinks so deeply into her that it feels like they’re one. The bed thumps against the wall in time with their motions.</p><p>“You’re so good,” he murmurs into her ear, <em> “Perfect. </em> This is the only thing I want.”</p><p>Brienne stumbles his name, and Jaime’s never loved the sound of it so much.</p><p>When Jaime spills into her, Brienne shudders around him, and he collapses on top of her with a long, loud groan. She seems in no hurry to move him, rubbing a soothing pattern on his back. The sweetness of the gesture unmoors him, so he presses his face into her neck to hide whatever emotion his face would lay bare. There’s a telltale burning behind his eyes.</p><p>“Are you well, Jaime?”</p><p>“What happens tomorrow, Brienne?”</p><p>“We continue north.”</p><p>Jaime chuckles at her no-nonsense answer. “I mean....with <em> us. </em> I’m not sure I can handle you ignoring me up the Kingsroad to Winterfell. I need…” <em> You. </em> The burning grows more intense.</p><p>“I--I won’t. Lady Sansa will understand, and everyone else will come to know you as I do. I’m sorry, for before. It’s hard to...to give my heart.”</p><p>“I understand.”</p><p>“I know you do.” </p><p>He slides off Brienne, and she pulls him against her chest. Jaime never wants to move from her arms. “We’ll need to find a maester,” he mumbles into her skin, “It’s not a good time for a babe.”</p><p>It takes a long time for Brienne to reply. “Elder Brother gave me some tansy tea. Sometimes, women visit the Quiet Isle because they might not want...that.”</p><p>“Wise. I’ll give him some credit.”</p><p>“If I brew it in the morning, until then, we can--”</p><p>Jaime <em> really </em> enjoys the prospect of that.</p><hr/><p>The common room of the inn is so small that it seems like their company takes up the entirety of it. Or, perhaps, they’re just a tall, broad group of people. </p><p>When Jaime fetches Brienne a plate of food and places it on the table in front of her, she smiles slightly and thanks him. When he goes back to fetch a plate for himself, as a one-handed man must, she makes room on the rough hewn bench for him. It’s a bit of a tight fit, so their thighs brush under the table.</p><p>“Did you sleep well, my lady?” </p><p>Brienne turns pink, “I did, Jaime.”</p><p>Clegane smacks his mug down on the table with enough force to cleave a log in two, “Well, that fucking makes <em> one </em> of us.” </p><p>Jaime stabs a rasher with his fork, “Were the beds not to your liking?”</p><p>“Oh,” Hunt chimes in, “the beds were fine. Not a lice or flea to be found. Gendry snores like a beast, though.”</p><p>“Please, I didn’t snore at all last night. I’d have to have slept a damned wink to snore,” Gendry grumbles into his plate.</p><p>“What kept you up?” Jaime finishes his bite of bacon and grabs some slightly stale bread</p><p>Hunt raises his eyebrows like Jaime just asked the dumbest question in the Seven Kingdoms. <em> “You two.” </em></p><p>Brienne practically squeaks, <em> “Us?” </em></p><p>“And your <em> godsdamned </em> fucking,” Clegane roars, “I never wanted to hear about how you’re not afraid of Lannister’s cock.”</p><p>Behind the counter, the barkeep drops a stack of plates. Jaime glances over to see him turn away at the last second and start wiping conspicuously at a shelf.</p><p>Next to him, Brienne’s fork is frozen midway to her mouth. She’s not even blushing; her face is white as a sheet. Jaime would laugh if he wasn’t concerned that Brienne was going to bolt out the door, hop on her pretty mare, and ride away. </p><p><em> Then I’d be left with these jackasses. </em>Well, Sansa and the squire were fine.</p><p><em> “Gods, </em> the thumping,” Hunt presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, “And the <em> screaming. </em> You refuse me, but you’ll let <em> him </em> fuck you?<em>” </em></p><p>“Lannister wails like a bloody woman,” Clegane adds.</p><p>“We--We were <em> quiet.” </em>Brienne flounders, but she doesn’t deny him. </p><p>Jaime has never been acknowledged before; it’s so thrilling that Clegane and Hunt can jape that Brienne bent him over the bed and did the fucking herself for all he cares. In fact, Jaime’s grinning so widely that his face is starting to ache.</p><p>Gendry shakes his head, “You were <em> not </em> quiet. You were the opposite of quiet. <em> ” </em></p><p>Poor Sweetrobin’s eyes are the size of plates. Podrick looks more stricken than Brienne. Sansa needs four hands to cover all their ears. Since she doesn’t have that, she chooses to protect little Sweetrobin.</p><p>“It...wasn’t so bad in the room on the other side,” Sansa’s cheeks are pink, “I just told them you were playing a loud game.”</p><p>“I-I knew what was going on!” Podrick exclaims, “I’m a squire, not a babe.”</p><p>“I’m not a babe!” Sweetrobin argues as he grabs at Sansa’s hands.</p><p>“We had a good fucking time,” Jaime shrugs, “What are you going to do about it?”</p><p><em> Nothing. </em>Jaime wants to stand up and shout it. They’re going to do nothing because Jaime isn’t doing anything wrong. Brienne isn’t doing anything wrong. He won’t be shamed into secrecy over loving her.</p><p>“Sleep outside. Freezing my cock off would be better than listening to that again.” Clegane stands up from the table. “I’ve lost my fucking appetite.”</p><p>“Buy a whore,” Hunt shrugs, “It’d be a distraction.”</p><p>“It--It can’t have been <em> that </em> bad,” Brienne’s blush is returning, which is a good omen. “It felt like we were whispering.”</p><p>“That doesn’t change that it sounded like the bed was going to crash through the wall!” Gendry stands up, too. “I’m going to go tend to my horse.”</p><p>“I blame Lady Sansa,” Hunt says, “It was her idea that these two fools should share a room.”</p><p>Brienne looks at Sansa, “...Lady Sansa?”</p><p>“We grew tired of watching Ser Jaime fail to court you. I suggested we...help the situation.” Sansa’s smile is a touch devious, but then she blushes and ducks her head. “I just didn’t expect to...hear it.”</p><p>“I thought I was faring quite well at the wooing.”</p><p>Hunt stands up from the table as well, “You weren’t. It was like watching a kicked hound.”</p><p>“My lady ser was ignoring you,” Podrick says, “Even though I could tell she didn’t want to.”</p><p>Jaime looks at Brienne, “Was I hard to resist for all these weeks?”</p><p>“....No.”</p><p>Sweetrobin finally dislodges Sansa’s hands from his ears, “This conversation is boring now.”</p><p>“Let’s go see if we can help with the horses.” Sansa takes Podrick and Sweetrobin, and then Jaime and Brienne are alone.</p><p>Brienne buries her face in her hands, <em> “Gods.” </em></p><p>“It’s not so bad. Look at the positives.”</p><p><em> “What </em>positives, Jaime? That was mortifying.”</p><p>“Well,” Jaime throws his right arm over her shoulders, “They won’t be confused when I put my bedroll next to yours tonight.”</p><p>She uncovers her face and turns to Jaime, “You--you want to do <em> that </em> in camp?”</p><p>“Give it a sennight, and they’ll like it better than my failed wooing.”</p><p>“I’m sorry--”</p><p>Jaime leans in and kisses her to stop the apology, “You didn’t deny me.”</p><p>Brienne brows draw together for a moment, but then her expression softens. “I’m embarrassed, but not of you.”</p><p>“It will take Podrick <em> at least </em> a half hour to ready the horses. He’s not very good at it.”</p><p>“We left our packs upstairs,” She smiles and takes Jaime’s hand, “Perhaps it might take a few moments to gather our belongings.”</p><p>“Wench, I like the way you think.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Leave me a comment and tell me what you thought!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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